Inferna
by Lovelywicked
Summary: She looked into the eyes of her sadistic master, her own creator, and smiled through her burning tears. "If I had to be killed by anyone, Damon," she whispered. "I'm glad it was you." Dark Fanfic, Smut Galore! Read at your own risk.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I know what you all are thinking; why am I writing another story, if I haven't updated Insanity is Beautiful yet! Well, don't feel too bad, guys, I will probably update next week. For everyone here or near the tri-state area, we have endured the worst of Hurricane Sandy. Some of us were lucky, and others, and by others, I'm including myself, were not so lucky. My power has been off and on for the last day and a half, so I wanted to update this story as soon as possible, before the power leaves again. My prayers go out to anyone who has also been affected by the storm. **

**This is currently a one-shot. If you're into blood, gore, 19****th**** century London history, and lots of smut, then this fanfic will definitely be for you. This is not for the weak-hearted or easily offended. **

**Also, I will only continue this if it grabs enough attention, which I hope it does, because I have a lot in store for this potential fanfic. There will be a lot of unanswered questions, but they will remain unanswered unless you all hit that precious blue button at the end that spells review :)**

**Here's a remainder, my friends: In this fanfic, there are no vampires, no werewolves, no witches, no supernatural, only science….and insanity. Is everyone human? Not everyone…not quite :)**

**Prepare yourselves. XD**

**Disclaimer: Don't even think about suing me. I'm dirty poor. No copyright infringement intended. **

**Chapter 1: Requiem in Pace**

_**Hybrid: **__**An alteration of a being from their original state into a more altered being with minor or severe abnormalities. Casualties may consist of, but are not limited to, abnormal behavior, thoughts, reactions, actions, desires, etc. **_

Alaric rubbed his hands furiously, trying to contain what little warmth he could within his fingers. Under his breath he cussed himself for misplacing his gloves the other night.

"It is a shame, is it not?" the man beside him gruffed.

"I beg your pardon?" Alaric raised an eyebrow, coming out of his thoughts.

"My daughter, my dear boy…she was young," sighed the man. "Death appears only favor the young these days."

Alaric frowned. "I see. I trust you're taking this tragic turn of events well?"

The old man shrugged. "What can I say? My daughter brought a certain light to my life. Now, it is dimmer. My wife, however, is taking the news much worse. She was our only daughter, you see."

"Ah," Alaric said. He knew the mother was, of course. She was the older woman who was bawling over the fresh grave, which held the corpse of her only daughter. Another older woman held her while she cried, consoling her. Two younger men stood beside them, talking amongst themselves. Their eyes were bloodshot, but it was clear they were trying to compose themselves. "Are those your sons?" Alaric asked, wanting to keep on a conversation.

"The dark-haired one is my son, our eldest," the man sighed. "The other was my daughter's fiancé."

Alaric heart dropped, nearly knocking out the breath in his lungs. "Her..her fiancé?" he stuttered.

"Yes," the man sighed. "She was engaged. She always fancied the idea of having her own family, since ours always seemed to be dying off. We have no other living relatives. No children in our family. My wife always desired having grandchildren." He sighed again. "I suppose there's still hope. After all, my son has been fancying a girl right here in London, fancy that. Perhaps, my daughter did not die in vain, after all." His voice broke at the end as his face became red and tight. Taking a moment to compose himself, he continued. "My deepest apologies, my good man. I fear I must keep a straight face…for the sake of my poor wife."

Alaric frowned again, once again consumed in his thoughts. _Damon never told me she was betrothed…_

"I want to thank you, my boy. You made her final days the most peaceful," a small, shaky voice spoke.

Breaking out of his trance, Alaric saw that it was the man's wife who spoke; the late girl's mother. "It was my pleasure, mum. If there's anything else I can do, please don't hesitate to send word."

The woman smiled at him, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Oh, I'll be alright," she sighed lowly. "I take much comfort knowing she is in a far better place."

Needless to say, the woman's words stabbed his conscious with much force. He flinched of course; he was always a bad liar. "I…shall keep all of you in my prayers, my dear mum," he gave her a sad smile.

To his relief, the small family dismissed themselves, walking off to their waiting carriages. They left him standing alone, next to the grave. Before letting out his sigh of relief, a voice startled him.

"I wanted to thank you personally, my good sir," a voice said softly, startling him.

Alaric turned to see the blond-haired man beside him. "Ah…you were her betrothed."

The young man nodded. "Yes. Matthew Donovan."

"Ah yes, I've heard of your family," Alaric nodded.

"Miss Gilbert…she was my dearest friend, ever since we were children. It pains me to see that my oldest friend and fiancée was snatched from my grasp by that wretched disease."

Alaric nodded again. "Yes…in fact, I fear that she will not be the last victim. Tuberculosis appears to be strengthening in its numbers, I'm afraid."

Matthew nodded. "I'm just surprised, you see. She had us all convinced that she would endure the illness."

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Alaric consoled at his best. "It has claimed far stronger men than she."

Matthew shook his head, smiling a melancholy smile. "If you had known her, you'd have understood what I meant. Elena is," he paused. "_Was_…the strongest woman I ever had the pleasure of meeting. Her behavior was not always ladylike," he chuckled, "which explains why she got along with her father far better than her own brother." He sighed, new tears forming in his eyes. "My God, I miss her."

Alaric inwardly groaned. He was not always the comforting type. "As Mrs. Gilbert said, she is in a better place. You will see her, in another life." He hated lying.

"I suppose you are right," Matthew sighed. "I'll take my leave now, then. Good evening, doctor." He walked slowly over to the entrance of the cemetery and boarded his carriage, driving off.

Letting out his long-overdue sigh of relief, Alaric looked around, making sure he was alone. He hated doing this. After all, he was raised by nuns. His conscious constantly fought him every time he did this. But he knew every well, as well as his conscious, that there was nothing he wouldn't do for his best friend, his life-long companion.

Letting out another sigh as he glared at the setting sun, he retrieved his shovel, which he had hid behind one of the older tombstones. Dusk was about fall, and he wanted to get it over with. With another look around to make sure he was alone, he stabbed the moist ground with his shovel.

It was almost an hour until he was finally done. He couldn't have only dug out the ground that lied on top of her coffin. He also had to dig around it, far enough so that he'd able to open the casket door and carry out the body safely, without actually removing the casket itself. This part was, after all, a one-man job.

Throwing aside the casket top, Alaric paused in awe. This girl truly was a beauty. She was dressed in long, elegant green dress, with matching green gloves. Her hair was curled perfectly. Small, white pearls were laid around her neck, illuminating in the moonlight. Her face looked just like he had seen it just several hours ago when she was alive: beautiful and vibrant, despite her current state.

He knew he had to say it, even if she wouldn't actually be listening. "Umm…I know you'll never truly know it, but I truly am sorry for what I've done to you. You put your life in my hands, and I betrayed you. Please," he quietly begged her. "Know that I did this with the best intentions." He paused. "I truly hope you'll survive this."

Gathering himself, he reached down and grabbed her with all his might. She wasn't as heavy as he'd expected; she had lost a good amount of weight over the course of the last few days, due to the illness…the illness he knowingly injected in her body.

Balancing the body as well as he could, he carried her to the nearby carriage that was hidden beside the large shrubs. Two very young men stood beside the horse, tirelessly waiting.

"About time you came!" Kol hissed. "We were beginning to worry about you."

"Please!" Alaric scoffed. "You were only worrying about making it on time to meet your new whores."

Tyler chortled. "Ah, my good man, it's true!" He howled. "We met a pretty bunch, over by Wearington street. A lively bunch, they are!"

Kol and Tyler were young boys, each barely fifteen, but they both hated that stereotypical term, so they both saw each other as young men. They were left to fend for themselves at a young age and lived off the streets and strangers' kindnesses. Alaric saw much of himself in the two lads, so he offered them work as much as he could, hoping that they would one day be lead in a good track. They were rebellious and unpredictable, but loyal to those they cared about. They always saw Alaric as a father figure, but were each too proud to admit to any form of emotional sensibility.

"Is this the latest one?" Kol asked him, looking down at the body in Alaric's arms. "She's a beaut, poor girl."

Alaric nodded. "Yes. Dr. Salvatore asked specifically for her. Needless to say, we best get a move on."

Tyler nodded. "Very well." Glancing at Kol, he breathed, "I'll close up the casket and fix up the grave. You meet me at Wearington's when you're done, right?"

"Right!" Kol laughed.

Alaric rolled his eyes and lightly scoffed as he left the two men and boarded the carriages. Closing the door after him, Kol sat out front and ushered the horses to commence their nightly run with a swift whip of his reins.

Alaric settled back into his seat and sighed heavily, feeling weary from his long day. He hugged the body close to him, stroking the corpse's hair. He felt too scared to set it down, after all, Damon always preferred his bodies fresh and well-treated. Besides, Alaric's conscious ate him alive knowing that the girl was so close to him.

Over the years, he had gotten accustomed to being around dead bodies, which is probably why one would find him talking to them in his office, or even in the morgue. He always treated his patients, alive of dead, with upmost respect, especially those that Damon requested.

He was about to drift off into a most peaceful sleep when the carriage came to its abrupt stop, starling the man.

"We're here!" Kol hissed lowly.

Re-gathering the body, Alaric skillfully boarded off the carriage. He held the tiny body in his arms.

The street wasn't busy, as usual. In fact, that was the reason Damon and Alaric had chosen this street for their experimentation, more specially, this particular building. It was the remains of the orphanage they grew up in. It went to waste shortly after they became of age and were able to leave. They hated the place for multiple reasons, and yet they chose to come back. "Ironic isn't it?" Damon would often say to Alaric. Then again, they weren't in the position to choose a more preferable location.

"You need help carrying her?" Kol asked Alaric, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

Alaric laughed quietly. "I'm afraid her flesh isn't as warm as your whores, my boy."

The younger man laughed at his words. "I'm not as young as you think, you know. I daresay I'm much more intelligent than yourself."

Alaric shook his head. "No, my boy, I shall be fine. Hurry up and meet up with Tyler. I'm not fond of the idea of leaving him alone so long."

"Will do!" Kol cried as he leaped onto the carriage and drove off to the night.

With much care, he walked swiftly into the courtyard and into the old building. The building looked as if it were near demolition, but in reality, it was more stable then it appeared to be.

Alaric walked up the long corridors and grand staircases. Shooing away all the cats that were in his way, he made it to the top floor, which only consisted of a few large rooms. Entering the last one of his right, he sighed heavily.

The room, as usual, was a mess. Beakers, doctor tools, papers, and tables were scattered everywhere, contributing to the dark essence of the room. "Damon!" he cried out. "Where are you?"

No reply.

"Salvatore, I've brought what you've asked for!" He cried out, glancing at the body in his arms.

After no reply, Alaric sighed annoyingly and walked over to the middle of the room to the only large-enough operating table that was still standing. With much care, he lied the corpse on the table, evening out her gown. Taking a step back, he glared over the body once again. His conscious stabbed him again; the poor girl looked as if she were in a peaceful sleep.

"What took you so long?" An amused voice spoke from behind him, startling him. Alaric jumped in shock and looked over his shoulder, only to find his long-lost companion. "My God, Damon! What on earth possessed you to scare me like that?!" He placed a hand over his panicking heart.

The blue-eyed man rolled his eyes. "Forgive me, my friend. I was under the impression that you enjoyed whenever I scare you close to death." He walked over the nearby lamp and turned on the oil lamp with the light matches. "What took you so long? Letting old age get the best of you already?"

Alaric scoffed. "Damon, I'm only five years older than you; get over yourself! Save it for our later years. Where the hell were you?"

"Out…about. I'll remind myself to bring you souvenirs next time," Damon chuckled.

"I brought what you ask," Alaric sighed, lowering his gaze.

The amused expression on Damon's face left upon realizing his words. His gaze moved over to the table a few feet away, where the corpse laid. "It's her," he breathed softly.

Alaric nodded furiously as he sat down on a nearby chair. "Yes, it's her! Who else?" He growled. "Damn it, man! You didn't tell me she was engaged!"

"It was of no importance, Ric," Damon said in a monotone voice as he turned his back to Alaric and walked slowly over to the body, as if in a stupor.

"No importance?!" He scowled. "You made me kill an innocent girl! Look at her, she's barely a woman!"

"I beg to differ," Damon muttered, standing beside the corpse, looking down at her and examining her womanly features. "She's only a few years younger than I."

"She had a life, Damon! She wanted children, a family!" Alaric hissed. "Even if she is revived by your experimentation, there's no way she could ever attain that!"

Damon shot him a look in anger. "You didn't say the same for our other patients!"

Alaric lowered his head, knowing Damon now stood on reasonable ground. "If she makes it," he sighed. "She'll hate us for this. Even if we don't tell her anything, she'll find out eventually."

"You should worry about your own soul. As for me, I have no such thing." He paused. "If we're lucky, maybe she'll turn out like me; incapable of feeling or emotion." Damon pulled out all his equipment and liquids, commencing his procedure.

"You know that's not true," Alaric muttered. He stood up and started out the room, but then paused upon reaching the doorstep. "She won't be human, will she?"

Damon, without looking back at his friend, shook his head. "No…not quite."

"Will she remember?" he asked.

"No," Damon simply shot out. "What's her name?"

"Elena. Her name was Elena Gilbert." Alaric was about to take his leave once again, when Damon called him back in. "Yes Damon?"

Damon now wore his long white coat and his small glasses, ready for the operation. "Thank you, my dear friend," he muttered lowly.

Alaric lowered his gaze. He knew it was not an easy task for Damon to extend his gratitude to anyone, including him. With a small nod and smile, he left the room, retiring for the night. He knew Damon preferred doing these procedures alone.

Damon continued with his elaborate procedure, knowing this would take most of the night. He took out his scalpel and cut open the corpse's dress, split it down the middle, pulling apart her undergarments. He felt himself harden at looking at her most intimate parts. She definitely wasn't like anyone he'd ever seen.

Licking his lips, he brought his scalpel to her lower abdomen and made the first incision, running the small blade across her flesh. Cleaning off some of her blood, he took injected his specially-made concoctions and injected it into her organs, moving as swiftly as possible.

His mind ran rampantly, thinking of all the times his procedures failed at bringing his patients back from the dead into hybrid state, as he called it. All his faith went into this small, beautiful girl, her afterlife in his hands.

After stitching up the incision, he moved on to her upper chest, right over her breast. He moved skillfully under her top ribcage and injected her heart and lungs with the liquid. Closing up again, he made his next move to her temples and the base of her head, injecting them as well.

Pressing the small metal values against her temples and heart, he pulled across his little electricity-producing machine and ran it up to full power. He watched intently as her body shook from the electrical currents. After a few minutes, he turned off the machine and laughed. Mary Shelley and her precious Dr. Frankenstein couldn't have done better themselves.

For a moment, only for a moment, he dared to run his fingers through her soft hair, relishing in her beauty. "Please," he whispered. "Please make it. Come to me."

There was now nothing to do but wait. By morning, if his efforts finally succeeded, she'd rise into her new life, into a new being. Her heart would beat once again, her hybrid blood running through her veins. She'd have no memory of her precious life, but that would keep her memories from fighting to resurface. As long as he would remember to inject her with his liquid, trilyxrin, he called it, every now and then, her memory would subdue.

He was not a patient man, but he'd have to wait. Tomorrow would come in a few hours, and he'd see if his efforts would be rewarded. Fate was never kind to him, but if it worked this time…

He sighed. Leaning over, he kissed to girl's…Elena's…forehead, whispering. "_Ut vobis requiem in pace, solum ad resurgere renovator in nostrum inferno."_

**A/N: I know, a lot of questions running through your heads! The only I can answer them and continue this story is if you all hit that review button! Let me know your thoughts! **

**Happy Halloween, everyone :)**

**XOXO Emely**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: You guys wanted more, you got it. I got a lot in store for this story, if you all want it. As my usual readers know, I love to give out shout-outs to publically extend my gratitude to some of you awesome reviewers.**

**princessrae91285****: Ugh you're lucky. Here in the Bronx, we got a lot of rain and wind. One of neighbor's fences was ripped right out of her front yard! Anyway thanks so much for your review! It means everything to me :) **

**diehardromantic:**** Lol I've been told that I have a tendency of leaving people at the edge of their seat, wanting more…but I don't know, maybe it's just a rumor lol. Thanks so much for your review! **

**ConsumedByDamon:**** Thanks so much for your review! Your support and reviews mean the world to me :)**

**Fatally Falling:**** Don't worry hon. Since a lot of people asked for more, I'm giving it to you. Thanks so much ;)**

**NowAndForever1: ****I appreciate the love and review! Thanks so much!**

**bellax0xchristina:**** I hope you're happy! I'm updating and I am anxiously waiting your replies and reviews! Thanks so much for your time and review!**

**DElenaLover4Ever:**** When am I updating? Probably now. LOL. Thanks so much for your review! I hope you like this next chapter.**

**DelenaVD****: Don't worry; Insanity is Beautiful is my main priority; this story, I will only continue if it gains a lot of reception. I really hope you like this next chapter :)**

**Sarah****: Don't worry, I have a lot in store for this story. I only hope that you like it :) Thanks so much for your review! It meant the world to me.**

**OceanEye1235****: Damon is not a hybrid in this story…at least, not yet. There will be much surprise in this fanfic. I love your enthusiasm! **

**Thanks to all who sent me prayers and love; my family and I are doing much better after Sandy. You guys are so freaking awesome :) **

**Guys, before I continue, I want to ask all of you if you could all please read the story "Mad World" by Darth Inferna. It's intriguing and interesting, and I love it! **

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. I do not gain any compensation for this.**

**Chapter 2: May I be Damned**

Despite his best efforts, the poor doctor could not find his gloves. In his hour of need, as he walked through the streets of London in the cold, early morning, he simply endured the bitter cold to his best. He had endured a long, sleepless night, mostly because of the intimate actions committed between him and his dear wife in their bed.

Of course, there was another contributor to his sleeplessness: it went by the name Damon Salvatore. After all, today was the day, the day after yesterday. The day that, like many others before, he'd find out if Damon's experimentations finally paid off. Hopefully, however, today wouldn't turn out to be a failure like all the others before.

Dr. Alaric Saltzman walked in a powerful pace over to the abandoned orphanage, cautious over who he passed by and who he stepped near to. Even in its early hours, London had a very troublesome essence that confronted a tragic fate to those who do not acknowledge it.

However, he was much more anxious over who he was going to, instead of who he was passing by.

Protected by the shadows of the alleyways, which was his most important ally during his visits to Damon Salvatore and the abandoned orphanage, Alaric slipped though the courtyard and entered the building through one of the back doors that was swinging back and forth against the winds.

"Thank God," he muttered under his breath when he noticed the warmth that bathed the building's interiors. He had urged Damon to fix the underground furnaces, and it seemed quite nice knowing, for once, he'd listen to him. Not to mention, the fireplaces were all burning fiercely.

"Damon!" Alaric shouted as he climbed up the stairs up to the top floor. Upon entering Damon's laboratory, he noticed many things; for one, the body he'd brought was gone. All the utensils were cleaned up and put back into their normal, organized places. The sharp smell of rum cascaded the air more harshly then the oxygen in it, causing Alaric's head to swoon for a moment. Most importantly, he saw Damon lying on the floor, asleep, with a large bottle of rum in his left hand.

He had seen this scenario many times before over the course of the two years after the fire, which would explain why his heart dropped in despair. It did not work. The girl was a failure. Once again, Damon performed an unsuccessful experiment.

Knowing what the cleaned utensils, the lacking presence of the body, and the smell of rum meant, Alaric walked over to Damon and knelt on one knee beside him, examining him carefully. Damon's chest rose and fell in a constant rhythm. His face betrayed the emotions he probably still had swirling around in his head. He looked as if he were in a state of peace, instead of a state of anger and despair. Alaric almost didn't want to wake him up, but he knew that he needed to. Reaching out slowly, he took the bottle from Damon's hand, causing Damon's eyes to burst open, blood-shot.

"Good morning, my dear friend," Alaric muttered. "Didn't turn out so well last night, did it?"

Damon glared at him for a moment, and then frowned. "Are you here to take pleasure in my recent failures, or are you going to give me back my rum?"

"Neither, actually," Alaric stood up and placed the bottle of rum on a table a few feet away, away from Damon's reach. "You see, today's a new day, and glorious one at that! A day for new chances, self-renewal, and discovery!" He held out his hand to Damon to help him onto his feet, but Damon refused. Damon simply slapped is hand away, and slowly stood up on his own, wincing as the sun's rays attacked his face from the nearby window. "Come, Damon!" Alaric smiled. "It's a new day, a new chance! Look at that glorious sunrise and tell me what you see!" He threw his hand over to the open window that overlooked the harbors where the sun's rays peeked over the horizon.

Damon rolled his eyes, stumbling over in an attempt to sit on a stool. "I must admit, Ric, and please don't take this the wrong way, but your optimism can really be quite unbearable, especially in times like these."

Ric sighed. "Damon…please, just for once, go out and enjoy yourself!"

"I can't remember?" Damon retaliated. "Everyone thinks I'm dead. It would come to your doctor colleagues as a surprise seeing the dead walk."

"I sincerely doubt that your former colleagues will be out and about at this time of day," Alaric shook his head. "Now please stop this constant routine of sadistic self-punishment."

Damon's glare flared at him. "Sadistic self-punishment?" He sneered. "I'm sorry; do you honestly think that I continue this 'routine' as you say out of pure enjoyment?" He screamed in fury now, his voice inflamed and slurred.

"Damon," Alaric muttered. "Please don't be upset; I meant nothing so base. You're drunk, my friend, and you're angry, and you very well know that fire and rum don't mix."

"Don't try to humor your way out of this!" Damon screamed. "I know inside, you're ecstatic it didn't work!"

"Now what the hell are you insinuating?" Alaric shot out in fury.

"Come now, man." Damon smiled wickedly as he confronted Alaric personally. "Your soul is probably jumping in pure delight to the heavens, happy that you'll make be able to make peace with your inner devils as you finally put the corpse to rest, as you were originally intended to. Admit it," he growled. "Now your conscience will be put to rest, as will the corpse."

"Are you honestly alluding that I enjoy this? I enjoy seeing you like this?" Alaric shouted. "Damon! You are my brother, my friend, my comrade! If anything, I have put my own soul and reputation at risk for the last two years for you! Everything you have asked of me, I have never, not once, refused you! Everything I say and do, I do with the best intentions for you!" Alaric slammed his hand on one of the dusty tables, causing the dusty air to rise and have Ric in a coughing fit. "Damn-" cough "it, Damon!" cough "How many" cough "time have I" cough "told you to clean" cough "these dam tables?!" cough.

Damon merely stared at him, with a distant look on his face. After hearing Alaric cough uncontrollably for a few more seconds, Damon turned away and walked over to the window, where a pitcher of water awaited. After pouring a glass, he went over to Alaric, drank some, and then handed it to Ric, who drank the rest greedily. "Well then," Damon muttered. "Perhaps you deserve an accolade for being the best man in the room."

"Damon," Alaric protested.

Damon turned around, ignoring his pleads. "Congratulations. Your prize shall be waiting for you downstairs in the cellar for burial tonight." With that, he walked out the room with a simple stride, never looking back.

Alaric slumped against the wall, catching his breath. He winced as he heard the front door slam shut. "Damn it," he sighed. Glancing out the window, he spotted Damon walking swiftly out of the courtyard, dressed in old, ripped garments, with dirt all over his face, a worn down hat on his head, and a pipe in his mouth, no doubt loaded with opium. Damon's disguises were getting more interesting with each passing day.

As soon as Damon was out of sight, Alaric walked down the halls and stairwells, and into the cellar. Truth be told, he didn't like being in the cellar by himself. There were too many troublesome memories of his and Damon's childhood here. This was the room where the nuns would beat all of the children who they believed were up to no good. Needless to say, a good majority of the time that they were there, Damon and Alaric were screaming in pain as boys, as they were beaten by the nuns. The nuns were creative in delivering their punishments, but most of the time, they forced to kneel in front of a large crucifix while they were whipped with leather belts repeatedly.

Only one nun ever showed them any form of kindness, and that was Sister Pearl. Sister Pearl had become a nun at the age of thirty, after finding out that she was barren. Her husband left her, and she had no family. She became a nun in order to work with children, since she couldn't have any. She was horrified when she found out that the orphanage's other nuns beated children, but she stayed in order to help them in any way she could. She was middle-aged now. She now resided in a small house a couple of streets away, and occasionally came to visit Damon and Alaric here in the remains of the orphanage. She was one of the few people who knew that Damon was still alive; that he hadn't died in that fire.

Taking in a deep breath, Alaric walked in, hissing from the freezing air. No matter how warm the building was, the cellar never was warm. Damon joked that it was the spirits of all the pain endured here that kept the room freezing, even in the heat of the summer. Rubbing his hands together, once again missing his lost gloves, he walked over to the only table in the room. There was the corpse.

She was still beautiful. Her flesh had not commenced any form of deterioration. Her gown, however, was a different story; in fact, it was completely gone. "No respect for the dead…" Alaric hissed in annoyance as he draped a blanket over her bare body. He did it with much care, evening out the edges. "I'm so sorry it didn't work," he muttered to the body. "And I'm sorry Damon ripped your pretty dress. That selfish bastard." He ran his fingers through her curls. "But don't worry; I'll ask Jenna if she has any old dresses she can give you. I'll be back tonight."

No reply, as usual. The girl's face remained relaxed and perfect, as if she were sleeping.

He sighed. He felt a heavy amount of guilt on his shoulders as he thought over Damon's words. With a final glance at the corpse, he turned around and left. He kept a straight face as he walked out of the building and onto the busying street toward his office.

He naïvely took comfort in knowing…rather, _believing_…that the corpse would stay where he'd last saw it. He also believed that he'd shut the door when he'd left.

Ignorance is bliss, one would suppose.

**DE DE DE DE DE DE DE DE DE DE DE DE DE DE DE **

_One more hour…_

Today was not a good day at all. It was well passed dusk, only an hour left until he may take his leave from his office. And he couldn't have been more excited.

"Are you tired, Dr. Saltzman?" Ms. Hammond asked. "You look awfully tired."

"No, mum," he muttered, slouching in his seat.

"What?" she yelled from across the room.

He smiled softly. The poor old bat's lost her hearing again. "I said I'm not tired!" he yelled across the room.

The old woman smiled. "Now, Dr. Saltzman, I know very well you're lying. What's troubling you?"

Dr. Saltzman smiled. "Nothing, mum," he enunciated. "All is fine!"

Mrs. Hammond nodded she glanced out the window. "There's a man here for you, Dr. Saltzman."

Alaric's head shot up. "What? Who is it?" He strained his voice loud enough for her to hear.

"I believe it's Dr. Mikaelson!" Mrs. Hammond left the room and walked into the parlor to open the door to the unwanted guest.

Alaric groaned; this day was just getting worse by the second. "What the hell does he want?" he muttered under his breath. He didn't even bother to fake a smile as the unwanted guest walked into the room with Mrs. Hammond.

"I shall leave you two gentlemen to your business," Mrs. Hammond chimed.

"Thank you, my dear," Klaus mused with a sly smile. "And may I say you are looking younger and younger with each passing day."

"What was that, my boy?" Mrs. Hammond asked.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hammond!" Alaric yelled. "That will be all!" He smiled as she left the room, shutting the door behind her. "Now, Mikaelson, what can I do for you?"

"Oh, nothing, mate," he paced. "I just thought I'd come and visit your new office. Now," he glanced around. "I don't mean to be rude, but I highly suggest returning to your old office."

"You very well know I can't do that, Klaus," Alaric sighed in annoyance.

"Oh, that's right," Klaus chuckled. "How could I forget about that inconvenient fire. Besides, an office is restorable, but…a friend…a brother by bond…" He stopped and looked at Alaric. "Is not."

"Klaus, I'm trying to convince myself that there's a reason behind your unwanted visit."

"Oh, Saltzman, where are your manners?" Klaus mused. "I'm simply here, making sure you are well. After all, losing a friend like Salvatore in a fire can severely hinder one emotionally."

Alaric rolled his eyes. "I am doing quite fine. I'm just currently trying to come up with a reasoning behind your…sincerity," he growled lowly.

"What are friends for?" Klaus chuckled. "Well, I suppose this lovely abode is not at all that bad. You do have a charming secretary."

"Mrs. Hammond is the landlady of this building. She has welcomed me and my patients with open arms." Alaric glared at Klaus. "Now, if you don't mind, I have much work to do."

"Oh, yes," Klaus glanced around the empty office. "I can see that you have much to tend to." Before Alaric could quarrel any further with Klaus, a sharp knock struck the door. Before Alaric could stand to open the door, Klaus turned the knob and held it open, earning an annoyed glare from Alaric. "Hello, Mrs. Saltzman," Klaus mused as he took the woman's hand and kissed it.

Jenna walked in slowly, eyeing Klaus as she drew her hand back. "Hello, Klaus," she said warily. "Fancy meeting you here, of all people." She glanced at her husband. Sensing Alaric's anger, Jenna smiled meekly. "I just came to pay my dear husband a visit before going home. Am I interrupting?"

"Oh, no," Alaric answered quickly. "Klaus was just leaving. Weren't you, Klaus?"

"I suppose I was," Klaus chuckled. "Jenna, my dear, it seems your husband lacks the ability to welcome old friends into his new office."

"Oh, trust me, Dr. Mikaelson," Jenna smiled. "My husband does have the ability. He simply only shows it to true friends, and, quite frankly, you don't have those qualifications."

Klaus laughed. "I see." He glanced at Alaric. "A lovely wife you have here, Ric, but it appears that she lacks silence, a wonderful quality in most wives."

"Klaus!" Alaric stood up. "I highly suggest you take your leave now!"

"It's a shame you don't have Damon here by your side, Ric," Alaric sighed, walking toward the door. "After all, a man without backbone is hardly a man at all."

Alaric lunged forward, attempting to strike Klaus. Jenna, thankfully, intervened, by slamming the door on Klaus's tail pressing herself against the door, and giving Alaric a stern glare. "Ric!" she hissed. "Calm down!"

Alaric paced back and forth in an angry huff, cussing under his breath. "That bastard! How dare he come here and bloody talk to me as if I'm the insolent arse he is! He's lucky I didn't beat him up, for your sake!"

"And what would that have solved, Ric?" Jenna insisted.

""It would have made me feel better," he sighed, slumping back into his chair. He took several deep breaths, attempting to calm himself. "Damn, it would have felt bloody good."

Jenna walked over to the window, pulling them shut. She glanced around, making sure nothing, not a door or window, was open. "I take it," she said lowly, "this has something to do with Damon's experiment last night."

Alaric hung his head low, nodding. "Yes."

"I also take it that it didn't go well," Jenna muttered even lower.

"Another bloody failure," Alaric sighed. "He didn't take it well."

Jenna walked over him to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "My love…what's really wrong? Something else is troubling you quite deeply. I insist upon knowing."

"He said that I was happy that it didn't work, that at least, for the sake of my conscience , I'd be able to bury the body and be happy that it didn't work," Alaric sighed.

"Damon's just upset, Ric. You know him better than I do; his bark is worse than his bite. He took out his anger on you, and believe it or not, he'll be sorry for talking to you like that."

"No he won't," Alaric shook his head.

"Yes, he will," Jenna smiled. "Because he loves you too much. With everything he's been through, he's always had you by his side. You keep him driven; a good amount of his faith resides on you. During times like these, one's faith is testy, but durable."

"The girl was barely a woman. Seventeen, at most," he rubbed his eyes. "I'll admit, I did feel guilt, but I would do it again, for him."

Jenna smiled. "You have a good heart, Ric. Anyone with eyes can see that."

Ric looked up at her. "Sure. A man who kills his own patients willingly under his best friend's request in hopes to create some form of super human for revenge has a good heart. I'd be damned if it were my judgment day, more damned then Pope Boniface VIII, and even more damned then the Devil himself."

"Well, then," Jenna purred in his ear. "I'd be damned for loving a man so evil, so wicked."

"No," he chuckled lowly. "You'd be damned for the sinful actions you committed on me in our bed last night."

She laughed softly. "We aim to please, dear husband. Besides, you're one to talk. It seemed to me last night that you have far more knowledge of the human body than I'd previously believed."

"Just yours," he chuckled.

Here is when Mrs. Hammond's impaired hearing came to use. As quiet as they tried to be, their efforts were not completely successful. However, when they were done and Jenna took her leave, Mrs. Hammond merely smiled, believing that the noise she'd actually heard was that of moving furniture.

**DE DE DE DE DE DE DE DE DE DE DE**

_Finally!_

It was now the time to leave and he couldn't have been more grateful. He went around the small room, gathering his things. He had sent Mrs. Hammond upstairs to her own apartment, relieving her for the night. All was going well, and he felt better, especially after his wife's visit. After much thought, he'd visit Damon before coming to work tomorrow; he'd figured that he'd give Damon the night to calm down and rest.

A hurried knock attacked his door in a hurry, alarming the doctor. "Dr. Saltzman! Doctor! Please help!"

"Mrs. Hammond?" Alaric lunged at the door, pulling it wide open. "What's wrong?"

Mrs. Hammond shuffled in, gasping for air. "There-there I was, doctor…walking over to the market, to-to see if…if I could catch the butcher before he'd close up shop."

"You were walking by yourself at night? Mrs. Hammond, why didn't you have me go with you? You know these streets aren't safe at night!"

"Hush, my boy," she hissed. "Don't interrupt! Let me finish. Anyway, there I was, about to make the turn onto the main street, and I see this young woman on the ground, crawling!"

"My goodness!" Alaric whispered. "What was she doing on the street?"

"My goodness, doctor, do shut up and listen!" Mrs. Hammond threw her hands in the air. "As I was trying to say, at first, I simply thought she was a bum, looking for loose shillings, but when she turned to look at me, the poor girl was naked!"

"What?!" He exclaimed!

"Yes! Naked as a newborn babe! I went over to her, the poor thing, and asked if she had been attacked, or mugged. I briefly considered that she might have been a prostitute, but she seemed well too innocent for that!" She rubbed her forehead. "The poor thing! I'm surprised she wasn't freezing; all she had on her was a brown blanket!"

"Where is she?" Alaric stepped closer. "We must alert the authorities!"

"Why, doctor, she's right out there in the parlor!" Mrs. Hammond skipped back into the parlor and pointed to the couch near the fireplace. "There she is!"

Alaric ran into the room, almost tumbling over his feet. However, it was when he'd laid eyes on the young woman that his feet nearly lost stability, almost knocking him over.

There was the young woman, sitting in a fetal position on the couch. She was clinging to the blanket around her shoulders as if her life depended on it. Her eyes were frenzied, as if terrified. Her hair was untamed, but curled, as it had been this morning. "Elena," he breathed. _My god…_

Mrs. Hammond turned to him. "What was that, sonny?"

Ric pulled his eyes off the young woman on the couch and looked at Mrs. Hammond, forcing upon his face a smile. He had to lie to her. Too bad Damon wasn't here; lying was his forte. "Dear mum, don't you worry. You don't have to alert the authorities." He laid a hand on her shoulder, ushering her towards her room. "This girl is one of my patients! I had taken her to the asylum a few days ago. It seems they do not know how to take good care of her just yet!"

"Good heavens! The poor girl!" She looked over Ric's shoulder at the girl. "Love, are you hungry?" She looked back at Ric. "She must be starving!"

"Mum, that is not a good idea," he whispered to her. "This girl is not sound."

"What?" Mrs. Hammond yelled.

"I said I will take care of her!" Alaric yelled. "Don't worry! Now go up to your room and rest! Tomorrow is a new day!"

Mrs. Hammond nodded slowly. "Yes, of course," she muttered. "You're the doctor. Make sure you take her back safe and sound."

He nodded. "I will." After giving the old woman a firm, yet gentle push past her door, he shut the door behind her and ran downstairs.

The girl was now standing, facing the fireplace. Her blanket was now on the floor in a heap. She stood bare, staring at the fire, her face showing no emotion.

Alaric stood at the foot of the stairs, staring at the girl. _It worked…it actually worked. She's here! She's alive…in a sense. It worked. Damon did it…_

The girl slowly raised her gaze and turned her head, looking back at him. "Who are you?"

"I…I'm Doctor Saltzman," he said slowly. As awkward it was, it tried his best not to look at her bare body. But he did notice the stitching Damon did on her abdomen, her chest, and other places.

She looked at him for a moment, and then spoke. "I…remember you. You were there," she said slowly. "I saw your face. Before I could move."

"Move?" Her memory was better than he thought. Hopefully she wouldn't remember too much…

"Yes…I couldn't move for a while. Then I could. I followed your scent here," she turned to face him better. "From that old building."

He didn't know what to say. He felt frozen. His mind was still trying to understand what stood before him.

"Can you tell me something, sir?" She asked.

"Yes?" his voice squeaked. "Um, what is it?"

"What is my name?" She whispered. "Do you know my name?"

Alaric sighed softly. "It's Elena. Your name is Elena."

**A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. A few reminders: Damon is not a hybrid. Only a few people know he's alive. In this story, a hybrid is an alteration of a human. It's not a mix of vampire and human. A hybrid, in this story, is also known as a super human. Any other questions, I'll be glad to answer :)**

**Before I go, I want to address to one of the reviews I received for this story. In fact, it was the first review I received. The person who wrote it left the review as anonymous. Regardless, I want to say something in response. I understand that I may not always update my other story, Insanity is Beautiful, frequently. However, and I will use YOUR words, ****let's be real****: My entire life does not revolve around my online stories. Though it is a HUGE part of my life, I have many other things I need to tend to before sitting down and typing up a new chapter, such as writing college essays, asking teachers for college recommendations, applying to colleges, working until 7pm EVERY night, taking care of my five-year old brother, volunteering in a program that takes care of mentally- challenged people, paying bills, applying to scholarships, doing homework, etc, etc, etc. There are many fanfiction authors who take forever to upload, but I, like many other readers, appreciate every single chapter/story they upload, and I do not blame them if they take long. Besides, if you didn't figure it out, my family was recently struck by a hurricane that deeply affected our electricity. Also, you claim that I "tend to ramble off in different plot directions with no end in sight". Well, I apologize that my stories are too difficult for you to understand. After all, I do tell everyone who reads my stories that if they have any questions, they may ask me, and I always answer the questions as best as I can. For this story, it's just begun. For Insanity is Beautiful, it is about a vampire who is in an asylum for a reason everyone close to him is trying to figure out, including his doctor Elena Gilbert. Is this simplistic enough? If not, please let me know. I, like many authors, like to instill a sense of mystery that intrigues the readers to read more. I am sorry if this widely used method of writing style is unfamiliar to you. By the way, I meant what I said. I will only continue this story if it continues to get enough reception. I have another story to worry about, and may other things in my life. Consider this your shout-out.**

**I want to thank everyone for reading my story. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews you've sent me, and thanks to all who read my stories. You all mean everything to me.**

**Until a hopeful next time, please hit that review button below and leave me your thoughts XD**

**-Emely **


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